And the First Shall Be Last
by Invisionary
Summary: Willow finds Xander in the future.... And remembers.


_"Sit still, Xander."_

_Xander shifted uncomfortably on the side of the bathtub as Willow swiped at the cut on his arm with a cotton swab. "But it hurts," he said._

_Willow could tell he was trying not to sound whiny. He'd fallen down while they were playing out in her backyard and she knew that he was probably more embarrassed than anything else. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile._

_"It's supposed to hurt," she told him matter-of-factly. "That means it's working." She pulled the swab away and looked the cut over closely. Finally satisfied that it was clean, she retrieved a large band-aid from the medicine cabinet and applied it carefully._

_"There. How's that?" she asked._

_Xander stood up and gently rubbed at his arm. "Wow, Will," he said after a moment. "When my mom does that, it always hurts afterward. But..."_

_He looked up and gave her one of those big smiles she loved so much. "It doesn't hurt anymore," he declared happily._

_Willow answered his smile with one of her own. "Course not, silly," she said brightly. "I'm magic."_

_

* * *

_

Willow walked through the open door to find a chaotic scene playing out in front of her. The small house was packed full of Slayers; some were racing to and fro, attending to various tasks, while others were seated around the living room having injuries tended to. Willow had seen enough to know that they'd just returned from a major battle.

She made her way over to the hallway to the bedrooms, snippets of hurried conversations drifting past her ears as she moved through the room.

"...there were at least twice as many as we thought there'd be..."

"...there isn't a decent hospital around for miles, you know that..."

"...my fault, I couldn't get to him in time..."

Willow stopped in front of the door to the room she sought. It was slightly ajar, and she could hear hushed conversation coming from beyond it. She reached for the handle, but the door was pulled open from the inside, revealing a young, dark-haired Slayer, looking exhausted and worried. She stopped in the doorway, barring the way into the room.

"Can I help you?" she asked, wariness evident in her voice.

"I'm here to see Xander," Willow replied softly.

The Slayer's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Willow fixed her with a cold gaze, and the young Slayer blanched at the sight, taking a half-step back before realizing what she was doing and stopping herself. She knew that the girl was probably just trying to look out for Xander, but she had no patience for this.

Xander needed her, and nothing would keep her from him.

* * *

_She's sitting by the window in her bedroom, staring outside without really seeing anything. The cold gray light of the English autumn afternoon suits her mood perfectly. Numbness had settled over her, a dull ache that seems to seep into every corner of her being._

_Buffy was dead. It's still so hard to believe, but all the denial in the world won't change anything._

_She's sure that Kennedy will be back soon, with her words and gestures that offer no comfort at all. She'll probably try to get her to talk about what she's feeling. Willow knows there's no point; she won't understand. She hadn't even really liked Buffy, let alone loved her the way Willow did._

_Nor could Kennedy possibly understand the guilt she was feeling. She'd ripped one of her dearest friends out of heaven and thrust her into a world full of ugliness and pain. And for what? So she could live another four years, two of them almost certainly the worst of her life, before being killed by a cult of Sulrath demons in an alley in Rome?_

_She deserved so much better._

_Willow sighs, pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. She can hear Kennedy speaking through the thin walls of the coven's house; someone was with her._

_"...it's bad. She won't talk to me at all. She doesn't do anything but sit and stare out the window. I can barely even get her to eat. I... I haven't even seen her cry."_

_And then the door opens, and she looks up, and he's there._

_Xander._

_It feels like forever since she's seen him. He looks different; his time in Africa has changed him. He's leaner, more tanned._

_And she knows that the look of utter despair on his face is mirrored on her own._

_"Hey." His voice is soft as he approaches her, crouching down in front of her chair. Behind him, she's vaguely aware of Kennedy taking a couple of tentative steps into the room, but she only sees Xander._

_"I came as soon as I heard," he murmurs, and she can hear the compassion in his voice. The offer is there, unspoken; if she needs to fall apart, he'll be there for her. She struggles with the idea for a moment - can she really? After all this time, and everything that's passed between them?_

_And then she hears the voice of a shy little auburn-haired girl, whispering to her from an age ago: "It's Xander, he can make it better."_

_And she collapses, sobbing, into his arms._

_

* * *

_

Willow was about to speak when a familiar voice forestalled her reply.

"Willow?" On hearing this, she turned her attention away from the girl in front of her and looked past her into the room.

"Hello, Cynthia," she said, recognizing the tall blonde immediately. She'd been one of the first new Slayers they'd found, after Sunnydale. They'd had occasion to work together since then, as she was one of the most senior Slayers in the field now.

"It's okay, Melanie. Let her in." The girl glanced backward, then nodded and stepped past Willow, hurrying off down the hallway. Cynthia beckoned her in, her normally pretty face looking worn and haggard now.

Willow stepped into the room, absently taking in her surroundings. The room was sparsely furnished, with a couple of chairs, a night table, and two small beds. Xander was stretched out on one of them, and Willow couldn't suppress a small gasp when she saw him.

His shirt was in tatters, and his chest and stomach were a mass of terrible gashes, the wicked-looking wounds obviously left by large, clawed hands. There was blood everywhere, all over the bed, and discarded dressings littered the floor beside it. His face was contorted in a rictus of agony, and his breath came in short, labored gasps, and it was clear that even drawing air into his lungs was a difficult and painful effort.

"There was a big nest of vampires and Rapax demons preying on the locals. We raided it earlier tonight," Cynthia told her. She ran one hand through her hair and sighed. "I'd like to say that I wish I'd made him stay behind, but the truth is, if he hadn't been there, I would have lost two girls tonight. They were surrounded, cut off from the rest of us, and Xander just... Well, he saved them."

Willow stepped toward the bed, and Cynthia called out from behind her. "Can... can you help him?" she asked softly.

Willow shook her head slowly, never taking her eyes off Xander. There was nothing she could do. There was nothing anyone could do for him now. He was fading fast, and she knew it. She'd felt it, even from half a world away.

"Oh." Cynthia's face fell, her momentary hope dashed. She seemed as if she was about to say more, but fell silent as Melanie hurried into the room, hands full.

"I brought all the bandages and gauze I could find," she said breathlessly. The young Slayer looked to her elder for direction, clearly out of her depth, but obviously determined to help.

Walking to the side of the bed, Willow sat down next to Xander. "Can you leave us alone, please?" she asked, looking up and meeting Cynthia's eyes. The blonde held her gaze for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"Okay. Let's go, Melanie," she said, resting her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"Go? But..." Momentarily confused, Melanie glanced back and forth between them before understanding dawned. "No..." she whispered, tears filling her eyes. She stood numbly until Cynthia gently took her by the arm, leading her out of the room and closing the door behind them.

After they left, Willow pulled the blankets up over Xander, covering the worst of his wounds. Then she took his hand. Closing her eyes, she felt energy from the earth flowing into her after a moment's concentration. She held it within her briefly, shaping it and adding a touch of her own power before passing it on to Xander.

The effect was immediate and dramatic. Xander's body relaxed, his breathing slowed, and the pained expression disappeared from his face. After a moment, he opened his eye, blinking several times and looking around before finally fixing his gaze on Willow.

"Hey," she said tenderly, brushing his hair back from his eye. "How do you feel?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore." Xander's voice was soft, his words slightly labored. Speaking was obviously an effort for him, even if it wasn't a painful one.

"Course not, silly," she said, giving him a slight smile. "I'm magic."

He smiled back at her, and even now, the gesture warmed her heart.

* * *

_It's late by the time they get back to her flat. The memorial service and the wake had dragged on interminably. There had been a seemingly endless number of people speaking, saying things which all boiled down to: "Rupert Giles was a good man and he will be sorely missed."_

_If only they knew how much._

_The cab stops outside her building, and Willow opens her door and steps out. Xander exits on the other side and pays the driver, who speeds off without another word. She unlocks the entry to her building, and Xander silently follows her up the stairs and down the hallway to her door._

_Once they're inside, she relaxes a little, glad to be home. Her flat wasn't large, but it was nice, and living alone, she didn't need a lot of space most of the time anyway. Xander's been staying with her for the past few days, something she's been really grateful for._

_She steps into the living room and turns on the lights. Xander walks in after her, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his collar before collapsing on the couch. She goes into the kitchen and gets two glasses of water, returning to the living room and handing him one as she sits down next to him._

_"Thanks," he says, taking a drink. He sets the glass down on the table next to him and leans back, sighing softly and closing his eye._

_Willow sips at her water, turning slightly on the couch so she can watch him. "So did the Council people give you the speech too?" she asks after a moment._

_Xander opens his eye and glances at her quizzically. "The speech?"_

_"We know that Mr. Giles meant a lot to you, if you feel you need a break, don't be concerned, take all the time you need..." Willow says, and she can't suppress a touch of annoyance at the memory._

_"Oh. That speech. Yeah, I heard it," Xander says absently. She stares at him for a moment, taking in his slightly pained expression. He's still upset over Giles, but there's something else, too. She can tell._

_"What's wrong?" she prompts gently._

_He sighs again and turns to face her. "When was the last time we saw each other?" he asks bluntly._

_A little puzzled, she thinks for a moment. "It's been a couple of years..." Then it clicks, and she trails off in mid-sentence._

_"When Buffy died," he says solemnly. "Willow... I had a bunch of different people say to me today that they knew Giles and I were close."_

_He turns away slightly and runs one hand through his hair. "But the thing is, we weren't. These last few years... he was just a voice on the phone. He was just someone I'd call to check in with or when I needed something. I never saw him, never talked to him about anything but business."_

_He looks back at her, and she can read so much in his eye - sorrow, guilt... and fear. Her heart aches at the sight. "I don't want that to happen to us," he says, his voice slightly shaky._

_She stands up, setting her glass down on the coffee table, and approaches him. Tugging at him gently, she coaxes Xander to his feet and pulls him into a hug. She buries her face in his shoulder, closing her eyes against the tears that start to fill them._

_"So let's not let it," she whispers, stepping back a little and looking up at him, meeting his eye._

_He hesitates for a moment, then nods. He smiles slightly, and just for an instant, Willow can see the faintest hint of the boy she used to spend endless hours with, running and playing under the hot California sun. She finds herself briefly smiling back in spite of herself._

_She steps away from him and stifles a yawn. It's been a long day and it's starting to catch up with her. "I'm tired," she tells Xander. "I'm going to go to bed."_

_"Okay. Sleep well," he says. He gives her a hug and a kiss on her forehead, and they exchange goodnights. He picks the blankets he's been using up off the floor and starts unfolding them on the couch as Willow heads for her bedroom._

_She thinks about everything that's happened recently, and as she's getting ready for bed, she comes to a decision._

_Tomorrow, she'll ask Xander to take some time off with her. She's forgotten how to laugh, and she wants to remember._

_

* * *

_

"So what are you doing here?" Xander asked quietly. "I thought you were in Devon, with the coven."

"I was," she replied simply. She'd been in a meeting with a few of the witches, and she imagined that it had probably come as quite a shock to them when she'd stopped talking in mid-sentence and teleported away. "How about you?" she continued. "Aren't you supposed to be in Cleveland?"

"We heard about trouble in Africa," said Xander. "I got a squad of Slayers together to take care of it, and it sounded bad enough that I figured I'd better go along myself, instead of sending one of the other Watchers."

He fell silent for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "So, this must be pretty bad if you teleported all the way down here," he said. His voice was light, but Willow could tell that it was taking a lot of effort on his part to keep it that way.

"I'm not gonna make it, am I?" he asked. There was no hope in his voice, only resignation.

Willow simply shook her head. No comforting platitudes; he'd see right through them anyway.

Xander turned away from her slightly, and she could see his body tense. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and when he turned back to face her, she fixed him with a serious look.

"You're scared," she whispered. It was not a question.

He stared at her for a long moment, and she held his gaze unwaveringly. The eye patch always seemed so incongruous at times like these; while it no longer shocked her to see it on him, she'd never quite gotten used to it. Even after all these years, she still wished that he'd never had to go through that. For all the good it did.

"Yes," Xander replied at last. The simple admission didn't surprise her; they were long past the time for deflection and avoidance. In truth, she'd expected this. It made sense that he'd worry about what came next, after everything he'd seen in this life, everything that he'd been through.

* * *

_She finds Xander in his office, sitting at his desk staring at some papers in front of him. His door is open, but she knocks on it softly just the same. When he looks up, there's a flash of something in his eye, raw, unguarded. It's gone in an instant, and if she didn't know him so well, didn't know exactly what to look for, she would have missed it entirely._

_"Hey, Xander," she says, stepping through the doorway._

_"Will. Hi," he replies, quickly recovering from his surprise at seeing her. He stands up and circles around his desk. "Come on in."_

_She meets him halfway and hugs him, and he hesitates for a fraction of a second before returning her embrace. He relaxes a little, but not completely - she can still feel the tension in him. She steps back and looks him in the eye, concerned._

_He only holds her gaze for a second before turning away. "Have a seat," he says, gesturing toward the small couch opposite the doorway. She walks over to it and sits down, and Xander closes the door to his office before joining her._

_Willow turns toward him as he sits next to her. "So, I... I heard about Faith," she says quietly. "Xander, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral..."_

_"Don't worry, Will," he says quickly, cutting her off. "I know you were busy. If you could have come, you would have - I know that."_

_She still feels bad about it, even though she knows that Xander's right. The dimensional barriers had been weakening in a valley in the Andes mountains, and she and the Devon coven had undertaken a ritual to seal them again._

_It had taken over a week to complete and was utterly exhausting. When she'd returned to her hotel in Lima, she was given a message from several days earlier. All it said was to call one of the senior Watchers at the Council headquarters in London as soon as possible._

_She'd done so, and he'd told her the terrible news - Faith had been killed days ago on what was supposed to have been a routine patrol. Willow had been planning to return to England with the coven, but once she'd heard that, she'd caught the first plane she could to the United States. She knew what Xander was going through, and she didn't want him to have to face it by himself._

_"Are you okay?" she asks him, truly concerned. "I know the two of you were close..."_

_He doesn't answer. He just sits there silently, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap. She sees his posture, closed off, uncomfortable. This isn't good - she can't do anything if he won't talk to her. She knows she can help him, if he'll only let her._

_Just as she's about to say something else, try and get him to talk, he speaks. "Do you ever think about... just walking away?" he asks, his voice so low she moves toward him a little to hear him better._

_She's thinking about how to answer the question when he continues. "I did. After Sunnydale. I thought about just... slipping away. Finding some quiet little town somewhere and trying to live a normal life. No more vampires, no more battles, no more seeing everyone around me getting killed."_

_He finally looks up at her then, his expression full of confusion and pain. "And now I'm wondering why I didn't."_

_"Xander, I know why," Willow says earnestly, taking his hands in hers. "Because you know how important this is. You know how much what we do matters. You know how many people would be hurt if there was no one out there doing what we do. That's why you can't walk away."_

_She leans forward a little and says softly, "I know how much it hurts to lose someone. But, Xander, you're not alone."_

_She sees the ambivalence on his face, and for a moment she's afraid that he'll shut her out like he undoubtedly has everyone else. She releases his hands and wraps her arms around him. As she gently pulls him to her, she hopes with all her heart that he won't push her away._

_She nearly sighs with relief when she feels him relax in her embrace, resting his head on her shoulder._

_She can help him._

_

* * *

_

"Xander, don't be scared," Willow said gently. "I've seen where you're going, and it's beautiful. It's... I can't even describe it, but you'll understand when you get there.

"And you won't be alone, either," she assured him. "They're all waiting for you. Dawn, and Faith, and Giles, and Buffy. They can't wait to see you again. So don't you worry - it's going to be perfect."

Willow smiled slightly as she saw Xander relax at her words. He still trusted her, and she was glad to be able to give him some peace of mind right now. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"Well, I don't know," he said easily, and just like that, his smile was back. "It can't be perfect if you're not there."

"Don't worry about that," she reassured him. "You'll be seeing plenty of me. So much, you'll probably get sick of me."

"I could never get sick of you," Xander replied, tugging at her arm gently. "Come on, you know that."

He sighed softly. "Looks like we've come full circle," he mused. "It was just us, in the beginning... And it's just us now."

Just them. It was still so hard to believe, but it was true - and had been for a few years now.

* * *

_Willow shifts slightly as she opens her eyes, her mattress creaking a bit. Xander's still there, next to her, his sleeping form bathed in the moonlight that streams in through her window. She relaxes at the sight, finding his presence warm and comforting._

_She isn't sure what woke her, but she doesn't try to go back to sleep. Instead, she simply lies there, looking Xander over. Sleeping, he seems almost at peace, a stark contrast to the look of pain and anguish his face held just hours earlier._

_She can still hardly believe that Dawn is dead. She's lost a lot of people over the years, but in a way, this one hurts the most. For a long time, she'd believed that Dawn would outlive all of them._

_She'd spent the years after Sunnydale studying at some of the best schools in Europe, even attending Oxford for a couple of years, which was nice because it meant that Willow got to see her fairly regularly. When she'd graduated, she'd distinguished herself so much that she could've done anything she wanted with her life._

_But she hadn't been able to stay away from the fight. After traveling for about a year, she'd come back and accepted a position at the Council. She'd taken to her job remarkably well, quickly becoming one of their top experts on ancient languages and dialects. She put all her heart into her work, and genuinely enjoyed it, both the research itself, and as she'd confided to Willow once, the knowledge that she was helping people as well._

_It had cost her her life when she'd been called to Munich to translate an ancient text, and a group of cultists had attacked the Council office there trying to get it back._

_To say she'd been devastated at the news would have been an understatement. Dawn was a close friend, but more than that, she was a good person - one of the best Willow had ever known. Another one claimed by their struggle that never ended._

_She's glad that Xander's been with her these past few days. She knows she wouldn't have made it without him. But when he's here, she can feel something besides the gnawing, aching despair._

_She'll keep fighting. She can do this. As long as she has Xander, she can do this._

_

* * *

_

"Willow." Xander's voice was weak now, barely a murmur, and she had to lean in towards him so she could hear what he was saying. "There's so much I want to tell you... so many things I should've said a long time ago..."

"Shh... I know," she whispered. She reached out with her free hand and gently stroked his cheek. "It's okay. I know."

"I love you," he told her.

She smiled at him warmly. "I love you too," she said.

And then Alexander Harris closed his eye for the last time.

Willow remained seated, still holding his hand, for a long moment. She stared down at Xander, her eyes traveling over her best friend's face, now finally at peace. She'd loved other people in her life, but the truth was, no one had ever completed her the way he had.

She released Xander's hand and stood up. There were several of her students who could easily take her place in teaching novice witches their craft. And the Devon coven was more than capable of handling the magical end of things for the Council.

She walked over to the door, her decision made.

Opening it, she found Cynthia waiting for her. The Slayer met her eyes briefly, then bowed her head. Willow rested her hand comfortingly on the blonde's shoulder for a moment.

And then she strode past her and the rest of the Slayers gathered in the living room without a word. She opened the door and left the house and did not look back.

Outside, there was a bright flash and an arc of white light in the night sky. For anyone who was outside at that moment, it was impossible to miss.

Most thought it was a shooting star.

Only a very few people knew what it truly meant. Willow Rosenberg had left this world to join the ones she loved in the next. And Alexander Harris was waiting for her, just as she knew he would be, and he welcomed her with warm smiles and open arms.

END


End file.
